


we can talk

by ymorton



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>niall doesn't get why harry still likes to share hotel rooms</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can talk

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr, august 2014 
> 
> come say hi [here](http://www.ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com) !

“Harry,” Niall says, from the other bed. It’s nearing two AM, and he’s in a hotel room high above Dallas, his head spinning from too many margaritas with dinner and the A/C blasting. “You realize we don’t have to share rooms anymore." 

"Shhh, shut up,” Harry mumbles, raising a warning finger from his nest of blankets in the next bed over. He has his own bloody room, which is why Niall’s confused. Harry has his own very nice room, and yet he’s choosing to curl up here. It’s not even like he has an excuse, like his room’s far away - it’s just two bloody doors down. Harry’s drunk, but he’s not  _that_  drunk. 

“Did you just tell me to shut up? In my own hotel room?" 

"Shh, it’s ringing!” Harry whispers, and he rolls over, says into the phone, “Heyyyyy." 

Niall rolls his eyes, flopped on his back with a hand tucked around his head. Probably some girl. Harry’s going back to his own fucking room if he feels like getting laid. Niall’s not  _that_  nice. 

"Yeah, no,” Harry says, giggling. “I know. Did you honestly, Grim?" 

Grim. Niall pricks his ear, almost against his will. He never really gets them, Nick and Harry. The way Harry goes hot and cold on people is something Niall understands, with the way they’ve got to travel, but Nick - Harry’s never cold on Nick. They stay apart for weeks at a time - months, sometimes - but they snap back together like magnets when they’ve got a free second. 

"Yeah,” Harry laughs. “No, I remember you telling me that. Did he- wait, seriously? Oh my god." 

Niall huffs out an annoyed sigh, turns over pointedly onto his side with his back to Harry, the universal signal for  _shut up, i’m going to sleep_. 

If Harry were an upstanding gentleman, he’d murmur an apology and get back to his own room. 

But Harry’s Harry, so instead he goes, loudly, "Niall? You asleep?" 

"Nearly,” Niall says back, muffled into his pillow. 

“Sorry,” Harry says softly, and Niall’s close to saying  _ah, it’s alright_ , when Harry goes on into the phone. “ _Sorry,_ I said. Niall’s going to bed or sommat. No, it’s fine, we can talk." 

Prick. 

Niall rolls his eyes and then closes them, because he might as well. He’s exhausted, strung-out and achey, and Harry’s got a nice low sort of voice. Soothing if he doesn’t actually listen to what Harry’s saying, which seems to involve a lot of gasping reactions to some juicy story Nick’s telling about someone named Alyce or Alex or something. Niall’s not sure. He’s drifting in and out of sleep, so dazed that he doesn’t respond when Harry whispers, "Niall?" 

Niall just mutters, pulls the blankets further up his shoulders. 

"Think he’s asleep,” he hears Harry whisper, and he almost groans in assent, but his mouth doesn’t even work, he’s so exhausted. 

Harry murmurs something else, and then something else, and he laughs softly, while Niall dozes off. 

He’s out like a fucking light, until Harry flicks the light off. Niall’s eyes open, slowly, when the room goes pitch-black, and just as he’s about to sink back into sleep, he hears, “ _Fuck_ , Nick." 

Harry’s voice is as low as usual, but rougher, and Niall opens his eyes again. Hm. 

There’s a silence, and then Harry sighs. 

"No, it’s okay,” he says, sounding slow and deliberate. “Yeah. Wait. I- I gotta be quiet, Niall’s sleeping, just. You know. Yeah, it’s fine." 

Niall’s curled up around a pillow, listening, but he doesn’t really come fully awake until Harry’s first soft, low groan. The quietest sort of noise, but it might as well be a fucking trumpet, because it makes Niall jerk awake, his heart starting to pound. 

"Yeah,” Harry whispers, breathlessly. “Yeah, I - shit, Grim, wait, let me - I just. C'mon, you know what I’m doing." 

He laughs. "I told you I have to be quiet, alri -  _oh_ , god. God, Nick. Fine, yeah, I’ll- yeah, no, I can." 

Niall’s eyes are open now, staring into the darkness, at the opposite wall. God damnit. 

"Yeah, fuck, I miss it,” Harry mumbles. “Miss your mouth." 

Niall squeezes his eyes shut, draws in an artificially slow breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. God. He should just roll over, say,  _Mate, I can hear you, can you clear out?_

That’s why he’d do if it were Louis or Liam or Zayn. 

But it’s not. It’s Harry, and Harry’s - Niall’s curious, sometimes, about Harry. About who he gets off and how he gets off, and-" 

”- remember that night?“ Harry says, very low in his throat. "Remember how much you liked it when I - when I - ha, ha, yes. No, I know, Nick. It gets me hard to think about you getting hard, alright, don’t be-" 

He stops. 

"Fine,” he says, sounding a little disgruntled, but mostly amused. “Yeah, I swear. Just - just tell me how much you liked it. Sucking my dick in a stairwell. Just - god, yes, that’s it. Yea-ah." 

Over his voice, Niall can hear the sudden sound of hand-on-cock, that slick unmistakeable slide of flesh. Harry’s starting to breathe harder, and Niall hugs his pillow close to his chest, tries to sleep. 

He won’t, now. Not until Harry gets off or he gets off or both. But he’ll sure as hell try. 

Very faintly, Nick can hear a low voice on the phone, thick and muffled. 

"Yeah,” Harry sighs again. “God, yeah. Yeah. I would. Please - just.  _Please_ , Nick-" 

Niall’s face is hot. Jesus Christ, Harry. And now it’s too late to stop him, too late to say he’s awake without it being massively weird. His heart is racing, and he wants to sit up, loudly, just to see if Harry stops, but for some reason he doesn’t. 

” -  done that with anyone else?“ Harry whispers, wicked and low. "Since I’ve been gone? I - fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about it, the other night on stage, the - yeah. What? I can  _think_  about it. Anyone else fucked you like that since I left, Nick?" 

He laughs, hushed. 

"Yeah, right now,” he whispers. “Yeah. Shhh, don’t get loud. You’re so fucking loud." 

Niall’s cock is stirring as he listens, helpless and hot. It’s just - Harry’s jerking himself off so  _slowly_ , the wet movement of his hand unmistakeable. Like he’s holding off, making himself wait. Niall’s getting hard and tingling down to his toes because he secretly  _loves_  that feeling, of teasing himself. Waiting. 

And Harry does too, if the way he’s panting out little sighs is any indication.  

"Think about- about sucking you all the time,” Harry murmurs, so quiet Niall has to strain to hear, his heart pounding in his ears. “Your- yeah. Mm, god, I - I know. I’m - yeah, Grim, are you close?" 

His hand is speeding up, sounds growing louder, and Niall grits his teeth as his cock gives an excited kind of throb, trapped lonely and uncared-for in his briefs while Harry pleasures himself lavishly and loudly in the next bed. Bloody  _hell_. Niall’s never letting this happen again. Fuck, he needs to jerk off. He slides his hand down the bed, as slowly as he can, brushing a thumb against his own bare thigh and muffling a gasp at the feeling. 

"Yeah,” Harry gasps, these short high little sighs spilling from his mouth, not even  _trying_  for quiet anymore. “Yeah. Yeah,  _god,_ come - come on my -  _oh_ , god." 

He breaks off into a sweet, cracked moan, breath panting out in harsh gusts, and Niall clenches every bit of his body, presses the heel of his palm hard against his aching erection, ignoring the way it’s pulsing hot and needy under his hand.  _Touch me_ , it seems to be saying.  _C'mon, he’s doing it_.  _  
_

Harry sighs again, slowly.

"Yeah,” he says, voice thick and heady and low. “Did you come?”

Niall presses down harder, eyes squeezing shut, as Nick murmurs something back into the phone, something Niall can’t hear clearly. 

“Yeah, good,” Harry murmurs, and Niall can hear the grin in his face, the smug curl of his words. “Mmgh. Sorry you can’t go to sleep now, coz I’m proper  _knackered_." 

Niall hears him yawn. 

"Yeah, alright.” Harry yawns again, jaw cracking. “Have a good show, Grim." 

He makes a quiet absent sort of kiss sound into the phone, a brief smack of his lips, and then mumbles, "Night, talk to you soon." 

Silence. Niall’s surprised Harry can’t hear his heart beating. He waits ten minutes - his stupid dick not going down, mostly because Niall can’t stop running over the images in his head - Harry in the dark with a hand wrapped around his fat pink cock Niall’s only seen on accident, whispering hotly into the phone, talking about sucking dick. Like. Niall’d have to be straight as an arrow and pure as a saint to not get hard at that, and he’s neither of those things. 

When he hears Harry fall asleep - breath evening out, slow and deep - he crawls out of bed, drags himself ashamedly to the toilet. Leaves the lights off as he wanks quickly above the toilet bowl, grunting into his palm when he comes, leaving teeth marks in the flesh. Right before he comes he sees it clear in his mind - Harry on his knees, and his dick out and heavy and hard in his hand, and his mouth wet and open. Waiting.

It’s nasty. It’s super fucking nasty, and so fucking hot, and Niall comes so hard he loses his breath, has to grunt into his hand and try to aim at the toilet bowl so he doesn’t spurt everywhere. It leaves him shaking, weak-kneed, and when he flushes and scrubs his hands he crawls straight back into bed. 

He’s halfway asleep when Harry says, "Niall?” and he freezes. 

“What?” he says, visions of Harry’s shag-swollen lush mouth popping up in his head. His voice comes out strangled. “I’m asleep." 

Harry makes a soft murmur in the back of his throat. 

"We could do it at the same time, next time,” he suggests, very quietly. Niall winces, squeezes his eyes shut tight. Fuck.

“I’m asleep, Hazza." 

"Niaaaall,” Harry whispers. 

Niall ignores him. 

“Niall." 

"I’m _sleeping_ , Haz, c'mon. Talk about it in the morning."  _  
_

It’s a lie - they’re never gonna talk about this again, just like the time Harry walked in on Niall getting thoroughly shagged by this bloke who did tech on some of their Australian shows last year. They never talk about that, either. It’s just easier that way.

Harry sighs, as Niall digs his head into his pillow, closes his eyes determinedly. 

"Fine,” Harry says. “Holding you to that, though." 

"Wha,” Niall mutters, head starting to spin. 

“Talking about it, in the morning,” Harry says firmly. “Now shut up, Nialler, go to bed, shhhh." 

Niall wants to protest, and to say  _I’m not that easy, alright_  - but he is, pretty much, so instead he falls asleep.


End file.
